


'tis but a scratch

by mvrcredi



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedian Richie Tozier, Doctor Eddie Kaspbrak, Established Relationship, Immortality, M/M, Mild Blood, Mugging, Short One Shot, Some Humor, Some Plot, don’t think of the implications oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23048647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvrcredi/pseuds/mvrcredi
Summary: Funnily enough, the day Richie finds out he’s immortal, is the day he gets mugged.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	'tis but a scratch

Funnily enough, the day Richie finds out he’s immortal, is the day he gets mugged.

He was walking home from a gig, phone too far past dead to call a taxi or an Uber. He wasn’t far from his apartment, though, so he wasn’t particularly concerned. Sure, it was late, but dark? That wasn’t possible in the city that never sleeps.

And being the six-foot-two beanstalk he was, Richie was never concerned with the chance he may get mugged in some alleyway, as cliché as it sounded in his head. Yet here he was, fumbling for his wallet as some guy brandished a knife, a symbol of the ever-looming threat of being stabbed if Richie wasn’t to comply.

Now, Richie knows well and good that he carries at most fifty-or-so dollars with him whenever he’s at a gig, so it isn’t too much of a hardship to give it up, but despite doing as the mugger wants, the end result is all the same if he hadn’t handed over the money; he gets stabbed.

However, instead of freaking out as any sane person might do, Richie glances down and— _wow, okay, that’s a knife—_ pulls it out. It hurts much less than he had thought getting stabbed would. There’s blood, sure, but does he feel like he’s dying? Most certainly not at the moment.

The mugger seems equally as taken aback at Richie’s seeming nonchalance at the whole situation, watching on instead of, well, running. Richie, being the idiot he was, just holds out the knife for the guy.

“You want this back?” He asks, both with sincerity and humour. Richie was still extremely unsure how to go about this. The mugger simply gives him a look, aggressively takes back the knife, and is off with Richie’s fifty bucks.

Richie doesn’t know how long he stands in the alleyway staring down the wound, but eventually he decides to hug his jacket around him to hide the growing bloodstain on his shirt, and continues his trek home.

He does his best to make the rest of the walk quick, trying to devise a way to explain the injury to Eddie, his boyfriend, the doctor. Richie winces thinking about the conversation ahead of time.

He takes the stairs two at a time, and closes the door gently behind him when he finally arrives, but Eddie is already waiting up for him. 

“How was the gig, Rich?” Eddie asks, and it’s innocent enough, so Richie eases off his worry a tad.

“It was good,” Richie says over his shoulder, quick and clipped, hugging his jacket even tighter to his body. He can almost hear Eddie raise an eyebrow from behind him.

Richie hears quiet, slippered footsteps approach him, before Eddie’s hands creep under his shirt. The touch is cold, like it usually was, and in any other situation, Richie would be enjoying the affection a lot more.

“Just good? You usually have a lot—“ Eddie pauses, and Richie is tensed, knowing of the reason. “‘Chee?”

“Yeah?” Richie squeaks.

Eddie removes his hands from Richie, and with more nonchalance than Richie had managed when he had been stabbed, asks, “Mind telling me why you’re covered in blood?”

Richie gulps, loosening his hold on his jacket as his slowly turns to face Eddie. He smiles awkwardly, seeing the amount of blood on Eddie’s hands, the latter’s eyes going wide upon seeing the mess that was now Richie’s shirt. “I was mugged?”

“You were _mugged?!”_ Eddie shouts, and any hint of the faux-casual tone that was previously there was not to be heard. 

“I guess,” Richie admits rather sheepishly for someone who had been stabbed, shrugging his shoulders weakly. “It didn’t really… hurt? It was weird. But I feel fine, honestly.”

Eddie looks at him incredulously, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. “That’s not… how have you not bled out? We need to take you to a hospital, Richie. Adrenaline is probably the only thing that’s keeping you alive right now.”

“That’s the thing, Eds. I don’t—I don’t think I’m actually dying.”

Eddie hesitates, before beckoning for Richie to follow him to the kitchen.

“Let me see,” Eddie orders, gesturing for Richie to lift his shirt. Any other situation and Richie might find Eddie’s “doctor-mode” overwhelmingly attractive, but right now, in this moment, Richie is starting to fear what he thinks might be the answer to all this: immortality. But then again, that answer still remains rather childish.

Richie complies, and immediately Eddie is knitting his eyebrows in confusion upon assessing the injury. “This doesn’t… for the amount of blood, you should have needed stitches, but… you’d probably be fine with disinfection and gauze at this point. What the _fuck,_ Richie?”

Richie gestures wildly, helplessly, mouth open and closed like a fish out of water, completely at a loss for words himself. “I don’t know, dude.”

“You do _not_ get to call me dude after you’ve been stabbed and magically healed,” Eddie deadpans, expression unamused, unimpressed.

“Why not, Spaghetti? You should be celebrating that I’m alive and well. I just know you couldn’t live without me,” Richie grins, the sincerity and severity of the entire situation suddenly dissipating. 

Eddie groans, rolling his eyes. “That’s so much worse, Rich. I’m going to bed. You know where the first aid kit is.”

“Love you too, Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie calls after Eddie, who is already a ways down the hall. Eddie flips him off in response, before disappearing into their bedroom.

Richie winces, then. _Ah. There’s the pain_.

To the first aid kit he went.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm currently writing a longer, possibly multi-chaptered fic, but i got stuck, so here's the product of that. whatever this is, lol
> 
> i hope you enjoyed either way!
> 
> let me know if you want to see anything in the future, feel free to leave me prompts, and any kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!! <3 :)


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